No Way To Reach Me
by wemmafanfics
Summary: She was a home wrecker. But maybe all she ever needed was a home to call her own. (Wemma AU / set in season 1)
1. Chapter 1: Fifteen

1: Fifteen

I think it all began when I was fifteen.

_I was a freshman in high school then, with skinny arms and legs, teeth studded with braces, and a hair that was too frizzy I always had it tied up in a ponytail. Funny how my stomach seemed to have known what was coming that day; I was walking home from school and my insides kept churning, unsettled. At first I thought it was just my period coming on at an irregular time, bringing along with it a sinking feeling and an unexplainable bout of sudden paranoia, but it wasn't—although I wished it had just been my menstruation instead._

_Upon arriving home, I stopped by the hall linking our living room and kitchen together, horrified to hear my mother and father screaming at each other. I was already used to their arguing because they always seem to make up after a few hours, but in the recent months I've noticed how frequent they have been going at each other's throats and telling me to go back to my room because they didn't want an audience to witness their fighting matches; and it took even longer for them to reconcile these days because Dad has been spending more time in his business trips and work conferences. So the aura of conflict lingered around the house while he was gone, and so did the pain and anger. Dad returned from his business trip in Miami today, and while I expected a warmer welcome from Mom, this is what I come home to._

"_I knew it, I knew!" Mom yelled, and even though I couldn't see either of them at that moment, I knew she was crying. "And you told me—three weeks ago, to be exact—you told me, that she was just your work colleague! You think you can keep lying to me because you think I'm stupid enough to believe it?"_

"_Oh, shut up, Rose!" Dad yelled, his voice booming. "I guess I won't have to lie anymore, is that what you want? Fine, you want to hear the truth—Liz and I are together! We're living together in Miami, okay, and I've been with her to meet her parents—!"_

_I heard a loud slapping sound which must have been Mom's palm hitting Dad's cheek, followed by Mom's uncontrollable sobbing. "We're married, Rusty!" she yelled. "Twenty years of marriage, what were you thinking?!"_

"_I regret not having left sooner," Dad scoffed._

"_What—" Mom choked on her tears. And in that moment I knew exactly why my insides had been squirming all along; I think I knew what Dad was going to say next, and sure enough, I was right._

"_I want a divorce," he said, his voice still loud but void of emotion. "Liz introduced me to her parents because I—I'm choosing her. I chose to be with her, and the only reason I came back to Virginia was to get the rest of my things…."_

_Mom exhaled exasperatedly. "You have a fifteen-year-old daughter, Rusty! Think about Emma! She doesn't know a thing about your bullshit, she thinks you're still her superhero, and she thinks that when you say you go on business trips you do go on business trips!"_

"_When she's old enough, she'll understand!" Dad nonchalantly brushed me off. "Divorce isn't a big deal for kids, Rose; I bet half the kids in Emma's school have divorced parents too, but what do they care about?! They care about popularity and being one of the cool kids!" I heard footsteps pacing around in the kitchen. "Nothing's going to change my mind. I'm still leaving tonight."_

"_I'm not signing any divorce papers, Rusty." Mom's voice was harsh, a woman scorned by her own husband._

"_Ha! You may still be my wife, but I've chosen Liz. I'm in love with her, I'm living with her, and I'm growing old with her. She doesn't need me to marry her for us to stay together. So don't hold our marriage against me, Rose; it means nothing now."_

It was an overheard conversation fifteen years ago that changed my life forever; it made me who I am now: a woman who only recently turned thirty and looks for wedding rings on men's fingers before wanting to date them.

Having grown up with the fact that my father—a married man—left his own wife for another woman, I live by the belief that being somebody's wife isn't what I should aim to be; I look at my mother and realize I would never want to experience the kind of pain she had endured with my father. I don't want to be the one the man left behind—I want to be the one they come home to, the one they'd choose in the end. But it's a funny thing how I want the men—the married ones— to want me, to choose me; yet once they do, I immediately call it off and stop playing the game, leaving them to clean up after the messes they have made with their families. Ever since I'd started to date after graduating from college, my life has become a repeating pattern of flirt-and-flee. Proof of it is my recent move from Virginia to Ohio, to work as a guidance counselor at a public high school in Lima. I chose another state because I have always wanted to leave my hometown—without having to be unemployed, of course—so once I've heard there was an open position in McKinley High School I took it immediately.

I arrive on a Saturday—the weekend—because I want to be able to at least get a feel of what the new town is like; it also won't hurt to start meeting the people in Lima, right?

Just below the condo unit I was able to get myself, there is a cozy-looking coffee shop that is vastly space-consuming, it looks like it took up the entire block and is big enough to accommodate the small town of Lima. I decide to give it a try, seeing as many people come and go from it with seemingly satisfied looks on their faces; I do hope the coffee tastes wonderful.

I line up inside The Lima Bean, behind a man who's about six feet tall, with neatly gelled curly brown hair, wearing a fuzzy gray sweater and faded ripped jeans. He's probably only just waiting for his order to be served because he's now busy talking on his cell phone.

"Yes, I'm on my way, baby," he mumbles into his phone. His orders arrive—two tall cups of coffee, one of which is decaf. "Look, can't we just talk later? It's kinda hard to—" He slips the phone in between his ear and his shoulder, bending his head awkwardly to keep the phone in place, as he takes the two cups in both hands. Without warning though, his phone slides off of his shoulder, onto the floor with a loud crash; the man swoops down to try to save his gadget but as soon as he remembers that his hands are full, he stands upright again, taking a huge step backward to regain his balance, and ends up stepping on my foot. "Holy shit—" He squirms, completely surprised to see me behind him, and as the lid of the cup he's holding in his left hand falls off, the hot liquid spills onto his hand. "I'm sorry!" He hastily and frantically nods at me before the feeling of warm pain finally stings his skin. "Goddamn—"

I see that there's a gold wedding band on his left ring finger, and my heart begins to race even before getting caffeine into my system. I feel like a predator zooming in on its targeted prey. "Here, let me help you," I offer, guiding him over to the nearest table and pushing him down onto one of the chairs. I grab a handful of table napkins from its dispenser while the man sets the cups of coffee down, cursing under his breath; I dab gently at his left hand, my eyes fixated on his gleaming ring.

He shakes his head, motioning to remove his hand from my touch but I pin him down by the wrist. "I think you should get that hand checked in a hospital," I tell him.

"I'll be fine," he mutters. "Thank you, by the way. And I'm terribly sorry."

I don't know how it happens, but flirting with a married man comes to me much easier than having to interact with a man that is readily available and single. I laugh softly. "Hi, _Terribly Sorry_," I tell him. "I'm Emma."

The man looks up at me, genuinely appalled by my response; it takes him a few seconds before he actually laughs. "You're not secretly mad at me for stepping on your foot, are you, Emma?" He grabs a handful of table napkins from the dispenser, removes his wedding band, and begins to dab at his left hand himself.

"I'm not the type who keeps secrets," I answer. I suddenly remember the phone he dropped during this coffee fiasco and I find it discarded near the counter, where the line of people since I arrived at The Lima Bean has doubled in a matter of minutes. I pick the lifeless device, its screen cracked, and hand it back to him. "So what's your real name, _Terribly Sorry_?"

"Will. Will Schuester." Smiling, he offers his right hand and I lend mine for a cordial handshake. Will withdraws his hand and shoves his broken phone into his pocket, and I can feel his frustration not at me, but at the person who had been forcing him to use his phone while he was handling two cups of fresh coffee. I presume that person is his wife. He stands up, puts his ring back on, and gets back in line. "What were you going to order? I could just buy you your coffee; it's the least I could do after stepping on your foot and wasting your time, and ruining your day too—although I hope I didn't—god, I'm really sorry, Emma…." He rubs his temple and smiles shyly.

I gladly jump on his offer. "You could get me a tall cup of whatever tastes good," I say. "I just moved here and I have no idea—"

Will peers down at me, smiling. "No wonder I've never seen you around here before," he replies. "How about I get you a grande latte with two pumps of mocha? Sounds good?"

I shrug. "As long as you're paying for it," I laugh again.

"Of course I will! I owe you at least that much." He says. "Well anyway, I don't mean to intrude, but why move to Lima? If you ask me, this isn't the most glamorously exciting town to live in."

"I didn't come here to live a glamorous life, Will," I answer, tossing my shoulder-length hair back to reveal my neck. I haven't had my coffee yet but I'm already feeling warm. "There's this job opening for a guidance counselor in McKinley High School and I took it. I'm starting this Monday, so…."

The line was inching slowly, but I continue to inch along with Will nevertheless. "You'll—you'll be working at McKinley High?" He sounds amazed. "What are the odds of us meeting today, huh? I work there too!" He holds out his right hand again. "I'm your work colleague, Will Schuester. I teach Spanish and volunteer as faculty adviser for the glee club. Welcome, Emma…?"

_Damn, this is no coincidence. It's fate. My first day in a new town and I get a chance encounter with a married man who also turns out to be a co-worker? I was beginning to think this would be the first and last time I'm seeing him; I'm glad to admit that I was wrong._ I take his hand again—his bigger, stronger hand—and watch as it closes in on my slim fingers. His hands are a little rough, but I don't mind. "Pillsbury," I complete the sentence for him. "I'm Emma Pillsbury."

"All right, then!" He seems to forget that he's still holding my hand and I jump on the moment to rub my thumb soothingly against his skin; it's either he's too numb to notice the sensation or he's simply allowing me to trace light circles on the back of his hand. "Geez, do you have any idea how long we've been waiting for a guidance counselor to take Mr. Hawkins' place? He's been having drinking problems lately and it isn't good for him to be exposed to the students. He'd go to school barely remembering his own name!"

"Wow, those are tough shoes to fill," I remark sarcastically.

"Sure is," Will agrees, chuckling. It's finally our turn to order; Will re-orders a tall cup of decaf coffee—the one he had spilled a while ago—and a grande latte with two pumps of mocha for me. He lets go of my hand as he takes his wallet and pays for his orders. We fall into a comfortable silence as we wait for the coffees to be served; Will stares down at his left hand as he repeatedly clenches and unclenches it, while I casually lean by his side, watching the knuckles on his hand move.

Five minutes later and the barista arrives, bringing a tray with two coffee cups on it. "A tall cup of decaf coffee and a grande latte with two pumps of mocha for Will…." Nodding in acknowledgement, Will carefully hands me my coffee before he takes the decaf coffee into his hand.

As hot as the newly concocted caffeine drink is, I take a small sip anyway. "You're right, it does taste good," I tell him, even raising the cup lightly as though making a toast. "Thanks, Will."

"I'm sorry for stepping on your foot," he apologizes again; I rub his arm—his apparently well-toned, muscular arm—acknowledging his redundant apology.

We finally exit The Lima Bean together. "Get your hand checked, okay? It looks terrible to me," I say.

"I'll probably get my phone checked too; I think you have to agree with me when I say it looks worse." Will raises an eyebrow at me and I nod in agreement, smiling. He looks down at his watch and is seemingly set off in a hurry again. "Crap, I'm late—I'm supposed to meet my wife, she asked me to buy her this decaf coffee—" He takes a huge gulp from the cup of caffeinated coffee in his right hand and swallows loudly, licking his lips as he did so. "I was too busy talking to you; it just completely crossed my mind—though I didn't mean it was your fault, because it wasn't—"

I revel in pride knowing I was able to distract Will from heading back to his wife, even for just a short while; I feel empowered knowing I still have this power over men—the power to lure them to me without trying too hard. I reach over and rub his arm again, smirking as I did so. "You should go before your wife gets cold—I mean before your _wife's coffee_ gets cold… we'll catch up again on Monday, yeah?"

Will nods enthusiastically and checks his watch again. "Of course, Monday—I'll see you then, Emma. You're going to love being at McKinley, you are going to love this town! Trust me," he says. He starts to walk in the opposite direction, but his eyes are still watching me—two green eyes glimmering with anticipation.

Needless to say, I already love this town_. _And I can't wait to start exploring more of _him_, as soon as possible. I stare right back at Will, taking in his form; just the mere thought of how he might make me feel in bed given that physically fit form—Lord bless him—is enough to make my insides tingle. "Watch where you're going!" I warningly call out to him. Will laughs, before waving me goodbye and turning to disappear into the next corner of the street.

I turn my back as soon as he disappears, choosing to head back to my condo unit; I think I've 'explored' this town enough for one day, if you know what I mean. _"I'll see you on Monday, Will Schuester," I mutter to myself as I cross the street. _


	2. Chapter 2: Why

2: Why

I set the alarm clock to ring earlier than usual today, much to Terri's great displeasure when it starts to ring at 5:30; the sun hasn't even risen yet.

I had just woken up to the ringing sound when Terri smacks me on the arm, grumbling. "Turn that thing off already!" She hisses at me, and I scramble to sit up and press the alarm clock's button to shut it down for the day. I lean over to my wife so I could kiss her on the cheek but she grumbles incoherently and covers her head with my pillow instead. I rub my eyes and sigh; Terri's changed a lot since high school. I still do love her, but she's different. I'm not one to blame her for changing, because we did go through a lot of grueling things in our relationship and in our marriage—to which I think my wife handled well enough—but she isn't the same. Of course I've changed too: I'm no longer the boy I was in high school, that's for sure; proof of that is instead of being a young, naïve student, now I'm a teacher, choosing to inspire a new generation of kids who I once was like too, in the very school that molded me to be who I am today.

Getting out of bed, I proceed straight to the bathroom to take a warm shower. The water pricks my skin and it jerks me into wakefulness, reminding me why I woke up extra early in the first place. I dress up fairly quickly, unlike Terri who'd usually need at least an hour to get ready; most women I know are that way and I always think to how awful I'd be if I was a woman because I wouldn't know how to fix myself up the way they do; in the end, women are strange creatures, yet I very much admire them.

I step out of the bathroom, just having finished putting on my socks, when I find Terri groggily sitting up on the bed.

"You're up," I say, walking over to the edge of the bed to get a closer look at my wife.

"The stupid alarm clock kept ringing in my head even after you turned it off," she scoffs, rolling her eyes at me. "Worst sound I've ever heard in my life, next to Audrey's crying when she was still a baby."

"Aw, no…," I pull her to me and press her head against my chest as we embrace. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Why are you leaving so early anyway? It's only just six, Will. We don't live too far away from McKinley for you to travel extra early."

I hadn't thought of an alibi for that, so I mutter the first thought that comes to mind. "I, uh… paper work." I shrug casually, but what's coming out of my mouth are merely words strung together to form a lie. "I need to check my students' exams. Still haven't finished grading them."

Terri yawns lazily and nods before kissing me on the cheek. "Fine." She doesn't seem to approve that I'm leaving early and missing breakfast with her and our little girl, Audrey, but she knows it's a lost cause trying to make me stay anyway. "Just be home early tonight, yes?"

My lips press together, and I couldn't help but frown at her.

"What?" she questions demandingly.

"I… I can't." This time, it's not a lie. I really couldn't make it home for dinner tonight. "You know how the glee club's having their invitationals this weekend, right? We need to rehearse—"

"I told you, Will, coaching those hideous kids isn't going to get you anything—!"

"They're very talented kids, Terri!" I bite my lip to keep my frustration at bay. "God, why are you so against this? Glee club has been with me since high school, you know that—"

"Exactly my point!" Terri kneels on the bed, crossing her arms at me. "Get over it! You're not in high school anymore! _What's with you and that dumb club?!_" She yells at me, but it's not her screaming that stings my heart; it's in how she's completely uninterested and uncaring about the thing I'm most passionate about in the world, how—in all the years that we've known each other—she still doesn't seem to grasp that glee club is and will always be a part of me.

I could only stand there, my vision blurring as my eyes fill with tears, watching Terri wordlessly. She's been against the glee club the first time I brought it up in our conversation, telling me to not coach the glee club when Sandy Ryerson got fired; her disapproval wasn't all too bad, not until this moment, when we're right at both ends of an argument, unwilling to compromise. The tears just keep welling up because I'm restraining myself from screaming back at her.

The bedroom door opens and our 4-year-old daughter, Audrey, steps inside with her pink stuffed toy kitten. "Why are you yelling, Mommy?" She mutters innocently, rubbing her eyes with her tiny hands as she looks at me and Terri, then back again, waiting for one of her parents to respond.

I immediately blink my tears away before I sweep my little girl into a tight hug. "Did we wake you up, sweetie?" I coo to my precious daughter.

Audrey shakes her head, mostly a mess of unkempt brown hair. "I was awake before Mommy yelled, because I'm thrifty."

"You mean _thirsty_?" I couldn't help but smile.

"Thrifty!" She repeats eagerly. "I heard it on TV! It's the same with thirsty!"

I glance at Terri and see that she's beginning to fix our bed, purposefully ignoring Audrey and me. I lead Audrey into the kitchen to get her a glass of water. "Darling, 'thrifty' means something else. I bet thirsty was what you meant." I hand her the half-filled glass. "You want this?"

My daughter giggles in the most heartwarming way possible as she takes the glass from me and gulps down the water without restraint. "I'm not_thrifty_ anymore! Thanks, Daddy!" She grins wildly at me as she hands me back the empty glass. She knows that I know she's shifting from thirsty to thrifty on purpose, and does it completely for my amusement; thank God for Audrey to always lift my spirits up.

"Listen, Audrey," I tell her as I put my shoes on and get my bag and car keys ready, "Be a good girl, okay? I'm leaving for school now."

"I'm always a good girl!" She squeals, as she wraps her short arms around my leg. "Bye, Daddy! I love you!"

I bend down to kiss Audrey goodbye, but she insists I nuzzle my face against her pink kitten. My daughter playfully throws me a flying kiss before running back to her bedroom. Taking my bag, I walk to the door and call out to my wife, feeling slightly glum again. "Terri, I'm leaving," I call out to her.

"Lock the door when you leave," she answers back. Then silence—nothing else—so I sigh and leave, refusing to let this misunderstanding keep me down for the rest of the day.

-xxx-

As expected, my car is the first to arrive at McKinley High's parking lot; after all, it's only 6:30 in the morning and classes are not expected to start until an hour later. I carefully take the two cups of coffee I ordered from The Lima Bean out of the car and made my way not my own office, but to the guidance counselor's office, where I'd wait for Emma to arrive. I've been mulling over doing this since the day I met her, because after the mishap I had experienced at The Lima Bean, to which Emma had been a witness, I wanted to thank her yet again for helping me out. Also, I don't know why but I seem easily comfortable around her. I love being around people who make me feel glad because I spend time just being around them; it's definitely what I need right now.

I arrive outside the guidance office, planning to camp out until Emma comes, but she's already inside; her back is turned away from the door while she's sorting her books on the bookshelf. Having my hands full with my bag and the two cups of coffee, I decided to bump my knee at the glass door a few times to signal my arrival. I see Emma jump back in surprise before laughing embarrassedly at herself as she runs over to open the door for me.

"Will!" She greets me warmly, taking my bag from me and placing it on one of the chairs. "Wow, I wasn't expecting you at all!" Emma sits herself on her desk, excitedly swinging her legs off the table. She's wearing a tight dark blue pencil skirt that accentuates her slim legs— I shake my head when I realize where I have been looking and mentally remind myself to look, and only look, at her face.

"Well, too bad… I work here, so…." I smirk at her.

Emma laughs again, and her innocent doe eyes sparkle with happiness. "Of course you do," she grins. "And I'm glad that you do. At least I won't have to start working without knowing anyone around here." She reaches out to me and rubs my arm. "Anyway, you arrive this early every day? Do they give an Early Bird Award or something?"

I'm the one to chuckle this time. "No, not really. If they did give a pay raise for every time I arrive an hour early though, I might as well camp out in school more often so I'd always be the first one around." I continue to watch Emma, the sides of her eyes crinkling as she smiles. Boy, did she have an infectious smile too—those pink lips revealing a set of pearly white teeth as it curls into a beautiful smile—but god, I need to stop thinking about Emma this way before it's bound to worsen into thoughts that are deemed illegal for a married man like me.

"So why are you here now, if you say you're not always this early?" Emma's voice snaps me out of my brewing thoughts.

I bite my lip as I tell her the same lie I told my wife just a while back. I don't want to creep her out by admitting I mindfully came at an earlier time just to welcome her to McKinley High. "I need to grade a few more papers," I say.

Emma's face drops slightly; I notice the slight twitch in her face as she tries to hide her frown. "Oh. Well, I hope you finish grading them, then." She withdraws her hand from my arm, and with the loss of warmth coming from her hand, I suddenly regret having said that lie to her.

"It's not really true, though," I chime in immediately as soon as Emma hops off her table and gets back to arranging her stack of psychology books. "I came here for you."

Emma looks at me again, her eyebrows furrowed together. I hand her one cup of coffee and smile sheepishly. "I—I've been thinking of personally welcoming you here, in McKinley High, since it's your first day of work. And, uh, well… I'd also like to thank you for putting up with me when we met last Saturday—you know, the whole coffee crap at The Lima Bean." I sound so foolish, damn it—but I feel a tad better when I see Emma's smile flash at me again.

She takes the coffee from me, her hands closing in on mine. "Aw, Will. Forget that whole fiasco last Saturday, okay? Wow, and thanks for the coffee!" Emma squeals delightedly. "This is really good timing because I just ran out of coffee," she adds, and she nudges her head to the corner of the room where a tall (and already empty) cup of coffee, which she also bought from The Lima Bean, is placed atop her office drawer.

"Awesome," I chuckle again, relishing in her warm hands before she lets go of me again. "But how long have you been here, exactly?" I wonder out loud.

"I came in at 6," she says, before allowing herself to gulp down the dark liquid. "It's a good thing I did too, because when I got here this place looked really terrible. Cobwebs everywhere! It needed a lot of cleaning up because it looked like one of those creepy abandoned houses with so-called ghost inhabitants—eurgh." Emma scrunches up her face, and I find it endearing to see her wrinkling her nose up because it reminds me of Audrey.

"Sorry about that, though." I sit on one of the chairs and lean back, taking a sip of coffee. "The janitors didn't clean this place up after Mr. Hawkins left."

"Oh no, it's fine. I don't mind cleaning it up myself," Emma says nonchalantly. She sits on the other chair across from me and leans back too, crossing her legs and heaving a sigh. It reminds me of those talk shows on TV, the ones Terri constantly watches, where the interviewer and the interviewee sit across from each other and talk about—I don't know— _stuff_. Just thinking about how ridiculous we probably look just sitting there, I begin to laugh.

"What's up with you, Schuester?" Emma begins laughing too, although she's eyeing me suspiciously.

"Nothing." _I feel like an idiot. God, why must I act like an idiot?_

"What is it?" Emma stands up and lightly stomps her feet on the ground, pretending to be angry. "Tell me, Will." She raises an eyebrow at me as she sets her coffee down and crosses her arms.

"It's nothing!" I shrug it off, but Emma doesn't seem to believe me.

"That's not fair," she says softly. She steps closer and our knees touch; I couldn't help but shiver at the physical contact. "You really won't tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell," I answer with a curt grin. She bumps her knees against mine a few more times, but I do not budge. Her shoulders slack and she steps back, straightening out her ruffled blouse.

"Fine," she mumbles this time; I could tell she's disheartened. I didn't mean to dampen her first day like that so I was quick to grab hold of her hand just as she begins to turn her back on me.

"Emma, I just—" I stutter. "I just feel comfortable around you, okay? A-and it sounds crazy because we just met, but… I'm grateful for that." I nod at her, reiterating the sincerity and truth in what I just said, and Emma's tense hand begins to relax and squeezes mine in return.

"Me too, Will. I'm glad you spilled your coffee and stepped on my foot last Saturday," she whispers sincerely, but I don't miss the sly wink she gives me. Emma then pouts her lips at me and pulls me upright. "Do you mind helping me settle my things around?"

I shake my head a little too eagerly; I must look like a dog excitedly wagging its tail when it wants to play. "Nope!" I tell Emma. "Let's get this office fixed!"

-xxx-

I can't help but tap my fingers against the table, a rhythmless beat, in an attempt to ease my anxiousness. Renowned football coach, my colleague and best friend, Shannon Beiste, who happens to sit beside me on the table, calls me out on my apparently annoying behavior.

"Will, quit acting like a nervous puppy," she grumbles at me, her mouth filled with roast chicken and carrots—her favorite lunch. "Do you want me to break your knuckles?" Shannon tends to scare some of our co-teachers sometimes, but being her closest friend, I could say for a fact that it's really just the way she shows her affection for others. It includes this very moment in which she threatens to break my bones, but in reality is not even close to meaning what she says.

"What is wrong with you, punkin'?" She looks around the faculty lounge, searching for anything she thinks that might upset me.

"Nothing." But I can't stop tapping my fingers on the table._Rhythmless, pointless tapping._

"That's it, give me those hands—" Shannon reaches out to grab me by the wrists but I lean away just in time to retaliate.

"I'm just waiting for Emma, okay?" I lean back in my seat as the truth finally spills out. I keep my eyes focused on my untouched lunch, but I could tell Shannon was getting as confused and worried as I am.

"The new guidance counselor?" She asks, almost choking from talking while her mouth was full. _"Why?"_

Believe me, I've been asking myself the same question since this morning. _Why_ would I go out of my usual schedule just to get Emma Pillsbury a cup of coffee on her first day at work? _Why_ would I spend an hour redecorating and cleaning Mr. Hawkins' old office to turn it into a dainty, properly organized one for her? And _why_ would I sit here in the faculty lounge, waiting for her to show up, while my precious lunch break and ham sandwich are both wasting away? _Why am I thinking so much about her?_

Shannon's voice surprises me; how long have I been lost in thought? "Will, I passed by Principal Figgins' office when I was on my way here," she says in her characteristically rough voice. "Your new friend Emma was in there. Probably having a long meeting, punkin'. Don't freak out that she's missing out on her first lunch day—she'll get by." Clapping me hard on the shoulder, Shannon shoves a huge chunk of chicken meat into her mouth and urges me to start eating too.

I take hold of my sandwich and subconsciously begin to nibble it, but my mind struggles to be at peace. And it probably won't be—not for a long time— not now that the answer to that one question is as clear as day in my mind, as though it's always been there, waiting to be brought into light.

_Why?_ The answer is right at the tip of my tongue; it's pumping through my veins with every spontaneous heartbeat. I'm pretty sure I know the reason _why_.

But I know I must never speak a word about it.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (also an apology, if you please):** First of all, I'd like to apologize for suddenly disappearing for I don't know how long, because I got really busy and I managed my time really terribly so I lost all chances of ever updating sooner than this. But I'm back and that's what matters more.

But what matters most? This chapter! How did you find it, Wemmites? **Tell me, tell me, tell me what you think!**

Yes, Terri and Will are still very much married. And they have an adorable daughter, Audrey. I just felt I needed to establish Will's family life as soon as possible because it's essential to future happenings between Will and Emma. You'll see.

How did you find Audrey, guys? She's the cutest 4-year-old if you ask me!

Will and Emma's bond begins to grow from here. Especially now that we have an idea what Will is thinking, and how he feels about being close to Emma, we now understand that he feels drawn to her. So it's not just Emma hitting on Will because the feelings are mutual. (Just unspoken of, at the moment.)

Of course I could not leave Shannon Beiste out of this fic, because I think she's a really strong, underrated character who needs more exposure (at the very least, in fanfics like this one)!

How did you find Will and Shannon's bff relationship? 3

What are your thoughts about the next chapter? Any guesses?

**ONE LAST THING:** If you noticed, this chapter is told in Will's point of view. But for most of the chapters it will be in Emma's point of view, because she is the central character of the story after all.

Read and review, guys! I'll be waiting for your responses— good and bad! Thank you! 3


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